Not beta'd; standard disclaimer applies;

No Accident, Chapter 11 Bitter-sweet memories

Tim reached over for his phone and paused the music when a knock sounded on the door to his room. "Come in," he called, expectantly turning towards the door.

"Hello, Timothy," Ducky greeted. "I do hope I am not disturbing you, but I heard the music and figured now would be a good time to check in on you."

"No, no, you're not disturbing me," he hastened to reassure the older man. After getting out of the shower and changing, he had brought his phone over by his bed where he continued to listen to the music stored on it. The music had definitely conjured some emotion from him, but whether it was due to the power of music or being reminded of things from his past he wasn't sure. A break sounded like a welcome ideal.

"May I ask what you were listening to? I couldn't quite make it out through the door."

Tim frowned, since he wasn't really sure who the artist was or what the song title had been. Picking up his phone he replied, "Apparently, that song was by Whitney Houston."

"I take it you are not a fan?" Ducky inferred from his tone.

Tim scrunched up his nose, "Not of that song. The vocals were good," he admitted, "She has quite a range, and you can feel the emotion behind the words, but the lyrics," he paused and shook his head. "It's kind of a depressing song, actually. Talking about walking away from someone you love, and knowing that's how you'll always feel."

"Interesting choice of song, then," Ducky commented lightly, making sure Tim knew that he was not being judged in any way.

Tim shrugged, "I just put it on shuffle, it chose what songs to play. I was hoping the music would bring something back, whether it be feelings or memories," he admitted.

"And did it?"

"Feelings, yes," he admitted, "But not in connection with any memories, at least, nothing I can place."

Ducky nodded.

"I figured any song I took the time to put on my phone had to be important to me. I doubt I would put any song on my phone without a good reason. But for the life of me, I'm not why some of them are on my phone," he admitted. "Then again, there's a lot I'm not sure of lately."

Ducky asked him what he meant earlier when he admitted that the music had made him feel something.

"Most of it was physical," Tim sheepishly replied. "Felt confined, headachy, my ears," he paused and rubbed his ears in memory of how they seemed to hurt.

Ducky raised an eyebrow, "I hope you turned that song off."

"I couldn't," he admitted. "Again, I believed it was on my phone for a reason. But I did turn the volume down so I could barely hear it."

Ducky chuckled at his words. "I would ask to hear the song, but I am not sure I want to feel what you felt."

Tim smiled at his words, "I wouldn't want that either, but I am curious if it is a reaction to the song itself or my subconsciousness reacting to the song."

"Well, then, in the name of science and your well-being, I am going to have to insist that you play that song for me, if you can remember which one it was," he added.

"Oh, I remember it," he admitted. "Not only did I make a point of looking at the title and artist, but I marked it to not play unless I manually request it."

Ducky nodded, not surprised by his actions.

"I'll keep the volume down," he promised before finding the song and pressing play.

"Oh, my," Ducky exclaimed. "You can stop it now; I know that song and I believe I understand."

As soon as the word 'stop' formed on the ME's mouth, Tim was pressing his phone. "You know that song?" he asked incredulously.

"It was one of Abby's favorites," Ducky explained. "For a while, she would constantly play that band. I think she programmed her system to have that song play every third time."

"She didn't program it, I did," he instinctively retorted.

"A memory," Ducky stated, sending a pleased smile at him. "Any more regarding this song?"

Tim shook his head depressingly. "No, but I did the feel the same way I did earlier," he confessed.

"I think you remember more than you think," Ducky commented. "That song didn't evoke those feelings in me, but then again, I never attended one of their concerts and heard it play live."

"Why would I go to that concert?" he asked, before supplying the answer himself. "Abby."

Ducky nodded his agreement, "Yes. You would often attend concerts with her," he explained. "I believe I remember that particular one. I am pretty sure it is one of the last times you allowed her to talk you into attending such an event."

Tim snorted, "Only took a blinding headache and potentially shattered eardrums to get that to happen."

Ducky shot him a brief smile in reply before asking him a few more questions.

"It was good talking to you, Timothy. I believe I will be heading downstairs, now, would you care to join me?"

Tim shook his head, "I don't think so."

"You know you are more than welcome downstairs."

Tim shrugged, "Yeah, Gibbs said he'll be down there if I needed anything."

"Even if it's just company," Ducky challenged. "No man is a rock."

"Or an island," Timothy chimed in. "Gibbs doesn't strike me as the talking type."

"Maybe not," Ducky acknowledged, "But he can be, and he is definitely a good listener."

Tim gave the doctor a brief smile, "Thanks, but I think I'll just stay up here and see about going to bed."

"Very well, then," Ducky replied. "I will see you later. Do not hesitate to contact either myself or Jethro if something happens or you have any concerns," he instructed the younger man.

"Duck, how is he?" Gibbs asked as Ducky creaked down the stairs and entered the living room.

"Anthony in the other room?" he asked, not noticing the other agent.

"He headed home," Gibbs replied.

"So easily?" came the surprised reply.

"I told him I would call him if anything happened. McGee should be fine overnight," Gibbs added. "Physically, he's okay, the problem is his memory."

"Timothy is doing very well," Ducky finally answered the younger man's question. "Seems to be remembering a few things," Ducky shared. "Oh, nothing too critical," he rushed to explain when Gibbs exhibited some joy at that. "A few things, quotes, some music from a concert he attended with Abby."

"Really? That's what he remembers?" he questioned, shaking his head doubtfully.

Ducky shrugged, "The mind is a funny thing."

"That it is," Gibbs conceded. Taking a moment to share his concerns about Tim and a little bit about his own experiences regarding amnesia.

"So, how do we continue?" He ask Ducky for his professional opinion.

"As you have been," he suggested. "Sometimes the more you try to force things, the harder it is. Bit by bit things will return to Timothy, until then, do try to be patient and see if you can remind him of those connections."

"That doesn't seem like much," Gibbs observed. He hated feeling helpless, especially when one of his own was going through a difficult time.

"It's all I have," Ducky replied, raising an eyebrow when Gibbs let out a low growl of frustration. "Casual conversation, not an interrogation, is what will help him remember. Timothy and I talked upstairs, and during that time, he casually mentioned things, dropped them into conversation. He hadn't even realized he had remembered it until it came out of his mouth."

Gibbs frowned; he didn't remember doing that when he had amnesia. Then again, he had felt so cut off from everyone, so distraught over Shannon and Kelly that he rarely talked to the people that had visited him. He also suspected that he hadn't wanted to remember anything else, what he had remembered had been too painful, at least, emotionally.

"Not only is the mind a funny thing, but a complex one as well," Doctor Mallard added.

"And his more so than most," Gibbs muttered. "McGee and his mind were something I never could figure out," he admitted. "Tony, Ziva, Abby, they were easy," he shared. "All of them missed having a caring father figure in their life, it didn't take much to step into that role, but McGee," Gibbs shrugged.

"It is a role that suits you," Ducky observed. "I do wish you had gathered all your chicks closer to you, though."

"He didn't seem to need that, never indicated that he wanted it. As often as I reminded him that my door was always opened, he never came to be unless it was work related."

Ducky frowned, "Yes, even when something occurred with his sister, he tried to handle it on his own."

"It is going to be hard to remind him of a connection when the two of us never talked," Gibbs pointed out.

"Ah, you might know that, but part of Timothy doesn't."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, "You want me to lie to him about that? What happens when he does get his memory back and then feels like he can't trust me anymore?"

"There is more to having a connection than simply having previous conversations," Ducky replied, staring at Gibbs. "There is shared experiences, that includes physical experiences as well as emotional," Ducky pointed out. "The two of you are the only ones on the team to have experienced amnesia," he reminded the team leader. "And I am sure there are other connections just waiting to be discovered. You mentioned that the two of you seldom talked, perhaps this would be a good opportunity to change that?"

After Ducky had left, Tim once again reached for his phone. He really didn't want to listen to the music that was on there. He did not have high hopes for the choices he had made considering one song almost instigated a migraine and another had depressed him. Instead, he decided to look through his camera roll, hoping that there would be more pictures of a personal nature than what he had found in his apartment.

The first thing he realized was that he seemed to travel a bit. No place too exotic, in fact, none of them seemed to be outside of the United States. The second thing he noticed was that it seemed like he traveled alone. He had tons of pictures of scenery and landmarks, but very few of himself in front of those same places and none of him with anyone else.

He did find a few pictures of the same girl from the picture in his study. He was now positive that it was his sister, Sarah, since one of the pictures had included her holding a graded math test with a hastily scribbled note that said 'Thank you for being the best brother ever and helping me pass my mid-term!'

There were a few pictures of Jethro the dog that he skipped, then a couple of pictures of his teammates. He didn't remember where they were from, but it seemed like everyone was having fun. There was a series of pictures of Abby, drinking this strange smoking concoction, before miming that she was dying. The next few pictures were of Tony and Ziva dancing. Tim frowned as he wondered if pictures of him could've been found on their camera roll.

After cycling through the pictures a few times, again, bypassing the ones of the dog, he sighed in disappointment. He was saddened to find that there were no pictures of his mother or grandmother, and none from anyone who could possibly be his father. Which had caused him to wonder how close he was to his family.

He had really hoped to learn or remember more than he had. Figuring that it wouldn't help to look through them again, he shut off his phone and placed it on the table beside him, he then clicked off the light, and climbed into bed. Hopefully things would seem better in the morning, after all, he really couldn't see how they could be worse.

Gibbs woke up from a sound sleep. He cocked his ear, listening for what might have woken him. He was prepared to lay back down when he heard it: a soft, muffled cry. He shot out of bed, and headed upstairs. Coming upon the door to the room that was assigned to his young agent, he softly knocked, hearing a voice coming from inside.

"McGee? Tim? Are you okay?" When he didn't receive an answer, Jethro slowly opened the door and caught sight of his agent wrapped in a nightmare. Sweat glistened on his forehead; body twisted, entangled in the blankets, kicking as if trying to break free; his voice muttering disjointed words that made little sense.

Gibbs hesitated at the door, unsure how to proceed. Part of him wanted to rouse his agent, to release him from the bad dreams he was in, but another part of him wondered if that was the smart thing to do. After a small debate with himself, Gibbs entered the adjoining bath and dampened a facecloth. He then moved to Tim's side, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Placing the cool cloth of the sleeping man's forehead, Jethro then brushed his hand over Tim's head and hair. "Shhh, it's okay," he softly reassured the younger man. "It's all right, you're safe, I'm here," he whispered, alternating between those comforting phrases, one hand either lightly rubbing Tim's back or stroking his hair.

Gibbs wasn't sure how long it took for Tim to settle back down into a calmer sleep pattern, but he was relieved when it finally happened. Tim's movements had slowed down and he was no longer fighting to free himself from the blankets wrapped around him. The next thing that changed was the fact that his cries and whimpers slowed down, first becoming softer, then less frequent. Gibbs took advantage of the moment to straighten out the blankets in hope of making the younger man more comfortable. To his surprise, ceasing the soothing movement of his hand rubbing Tim's back had his agent once more crying out in distress. He quickly finished his task and returned to his previous position, once more reassuring the younger man, with both words and actions.

"It's okay, Tim. I'm here. You're not alone. Sleep. I'll keep you safe,"

"Dad," Tim softly mumbled, still asleep. "Thanks. Love you."

Gibbs hand stopped stroking Tim's hair as he paused for a moment at the words he had heard. There was no mistaken them this time, he realized before pushing that thought out of his head and continuing to soothe his houseguest.

He softly repeated his earlier phrases over and over while Tim relaxed, his hand once more continuing his ministrations. He remained in place for several additional minutes.

When not a single sound, not even a whimper emitted from his agent, Gibbs slowly withdrew his hand. Though he suspected that Tim would be fine for the remainder of the night, or morning, since it was definitely past midnight, he still felt reluctant to leave his side. Moving the chair, Jethro made himself comfortable as he continued to watch over his agent.

Jethro woke and tensed as Tim stirred on the bed. Glancing out the window, Gibbs estimated it to be a bit more than two hours before sunrise. He silently watched as the agent on the bed opened his eyes and looked around the room, as if trying to place where he was. No recognition seemed to dawn on the younger man, but then his gaze landed on Gibbs's shadowy figure.

"You're here, I'm safe," a tired Tim mumbled, looking right at Jethro. Gibbs nodded, not wanting to speak and begin a conversation with his not-even-close-to-being-awake agent. "Glad you made it home, dad," Tim said with a smile, before closing his eyes, rolling over, and falling back asleep.

Gibbs waited a few minutes until he was sure Tim was sound asleep before vacating his spot and returning downstairs.

Instead of returning to his own bed, Gibbs went down to the basement and absently began working on his boat. At first, the time was spent thinking about what he should do. McGee said he didn't want his family contacted regarding the accident and his injuries, and at the time Jethro had understood. But given the number of times Tim had called him 'Dad', it was clear that something in the younger man wanted his father there.

As a father, Gibbs knew that if something similar had happened to Kelly, he would've been very upset not to be informed, regardless of what she might have wanted. Then again, he knew that he didn't know how close Tim was to his family, his father. Calling the Admiral, especially when Tim told him not to, could potentially ruin his team and the trust his young agent placed in him.

Gibbs sighed before finally deciding to discuss the situation with Ducky when the doctor stopped by to check in on Tim.

It was almost sunrise when Gibbs dragged himself upstairs, where an eager dog raced between him and the back door. With a sigh, he shuffled over there and let the dog out, glad that the dog had some training and hadn't creeped up the stairs to find and disturb his master. After several minutes, the dog was back inside and laying on his bed that Tony had placed in the corner.

"Good idea, McMutt," Gibbs muttered before he laid down on the couch. He couldn't imagine falling asleep, not with his thoughts now plagued with memories of his daughter, but a little bit of inactivity and rest might help stem the fatigue from taking over his day.

5-9-2020

What song do you thing Tim was listening to and why was it on his phone? (the Whitney Houston song, though why do you think he put that other song on his phone if it caused such a physical reaction?)

Tim does seem to be remembering a lot of the bad...hopefully some good memories will come his way. Of course, even asleep, he didn't seem to be remembering the good times.

I know there have been many fics where Gibbs comforts his agents while they are sick & sleeping, or in the midst of a nightmare. It might be cliche, but it works to show that he does care, something (I think) he often tries to keep hidden.